Undone in silence
by Abbeldy
Summary: Emily's reaction to Ian Doyle hunting her.


It started happening. That crushing feeling when it all becomes too much. When things start overwhelming you and all you can do is stand in your living room, flail and curse in the seven different languages you know.

You go to your safe, go over the blacked out papers over and over again, live those two years over and over again in the space of 2 minutes and fist your hands so tight, to the point your chewed on nails make indents on your palm. You unfurl your fingers slowly and you think how stupid you were to think that your past wouldn't catch up with you. That your past wouldn't escape from a Russian prison, kill your friends and make its way to you. That your past has a gender and a name. That your past is called Ian Doyle.

Just the memory of that name makes you shudder and shake. The smell of his cologne comes floating to you. The memory is so strong that you pick up your gun and point it in front of you, looking this way and that. You pick up the papers and go to a corner in your room. This way, there is no way he will sneak up on you from behind. You will see him.

You realise that he has already snuck up on you. Greeting you with flowers and text messages, the same way he did all those years ago. Only then, you were the hunter, now, you are the prey. You remember Sean's face full of fear, Tsia's voice laced with barely controlled fury. He already figured out where she lived, in France. Did you really think that he wouldn't find you? Now that your face has been plastered all over American TV? You curse the day JJ left, at least then you had a modicum of privacy, but now, you are too busy giving press conferences about some killer while you are trying to compartmentalise. Some killer is after you. How do you hide that? Your breathing becomes short and forced.

You clutch your hands together, knuckles white, finger like bruises being formed on the back of each hand. You don't know what to do, how to face this. You bring in the team, you put them in danger. They do not have _your_ past, you have no right involving them. Already Reid is looking at you funny. You are slipping and it makes you squeeze your eyes shut. The tighter you shut them, you think the past will disappear. You open your eyes and realise it's staring at you in the face. A black and white photograph in a file.

In a fit of anger and helplessness, you pick up the file and fling it to the other side of the room, screaming inarticulately. You press your eye sockets into your knees till all you can see is red and white. You wait for the shaking to stop, but it doesn't. You will it to stop, unknowingly screaming "Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!" getting more hysterical with every word. You start laughing uncontrollably and that is when you realise that you've lost. You've lost the race of running from your past. Every human runs it. It's only very, very few who win.

You frantically look at the three passports in front of you. You set them aside and, while still clutching your gun, you grab your laptop. You search for flights to Greece, China, India and even Oman. You look at the web pages and lean your head against the walls. Who are you kidding? You cannot leave, you cannot run! You shove the laptop aside, get up and will yourself to stop shaking and for the room to stop spinning.

You have to call someone, tell someone. You mentally run through a list of people you can contact and come up with a blank. You cannot put anyone in danger. This is unfortunately your fight and like most things in your life, you have to do it alone. The epiphany makes you cringe because it certainly is not a pleasant thought.

You look at the names on your phone, pausing at Hotch. You look up, sigh and scroll further. You pause at Morgan and hit "call". You quickly disconnect, before the call can even go through. You hate yourself for this weakness. You know you cannot call Sean or Tsia because, for sure, your phone is being tapped. Ian Doyle would not be Ian Doyle if he didn't plan every step and stay in control.

You wonder if he is in America by now or if he will contact you again. You shudder again and think of places you can go. Maybe a hotel, but you know he will find you. And it's always better to fight on one's own turf. You look at your new condo, the one you purchased just a year ago. It has some happy memories.

All you can do now is to sit in that chair in front of the door, gun in hand, and wait. You turn off the light.

**AN: This is my take on what Emily is going through right now. I hope you like it! Read and review please!**


End file.
